Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2001 11:16:19 -0000
From: Nick
Subject: Across the road - Chapter 5
This is the fifth part of a true story about the gay relationship between a
small group of consenting adult males - only their names have been changed -
in middle England. If this kind of material offends you, if you are under
the age of consent or if such activities are illegal in your country, please
close the file and leave now. Otherwise, read on and enjoy!
Across the Road
Chapter 5 - Going to the Police
Yes, it was a simple question Stewart asked me. If he, Keith and Eric
decided to the police, would I go with them? What could I say? I had to
agree, strange though it might seem that a relative stranger should
accompany three grown men in such unusual circumstances. Sitting up in bed,
both naked, Stewart and I discussed it for a little longer, he called Eric
and Keith again, decided that they would go and tell the story as it
happened. I would play the part of Stewart's Good Samaritan neighbour to
whom he had come for help the previous evening. Eric, Keith and Stewart
would tell the truth, why they had been in the wood, how they had been
attacked, that they could describe the yobbos' car and even what their
attackers had been wearing. I would tell only of Stewart coming to me in
great distress, how I had helped him get his car back and then tended his
wound. After all, that is all that had happened, last night anyway.
We arranged to meet at the local police station, on the city by-pass, only a
mile or so from where I lived, at ten o'clock. Stewart got dressed, went
home, showered and got changed. I reminded him to bring his ripped, black
jeans with him to the police station. I shaved, showered, had breakfast,
cleared up and got dressed. A little before ten, a rather nervous Stewart
rang my doorbell and we set off in my car, not knowing what sort of
reception the three lads would get when they told their story at the local
nick.
Eric and Keith were already there. We joined them in the car park and after
a short debate, went to the desk, where the civilian clerk who welcomed us
was vaguely familiar to me. He was about my age and build with a shock of
slightly greying, dark hair. He put on his spectacles as the lads
approached the desk. Stewart told the story, without visible emotion with
Keith and Eric at his side, whilst I stood back watching the reaction of the
desk clerk. I still had an eerie feeling that I knew him from somewhere.
The clerk made a few notes but said nothing until Stewart had finished. He
then asked the three of them their names, ages and addresses, noting this
information on his form. He then asked me what I knew of the incident. I
told him of Stewart's arrival at my front door in a distressed and
dishevelled state late the previous evening. I continued by telling him
about how we had recovered Stewart's car, how he had still been very
frightened, how I had tended his wound and he had stayed with me overnight,
not wanting to spend the night alone in his own home - he had already told
the clerk that his parents were away and that was why he had come to me for
help. The clerk added my details to his form and asked us to wait.
He went to the back of the office and made a couple of phone calls before
showing the four of us to an interview room. The lads went in first and as
I looked back at the clerk, I realised that he had been a member of a Rugby
team I had occasionally played in, some twenty-five years ago. I recalled
that he had often been the instigator of the high kinks which seemed to be
an essential part of the traditional post-game communal bath. When I called
him by name, Gordon, he replied that he had been wondering if I remembered
him but had not wanted to mention our acquaintance, unless I recognised him.
Of course, he had the advantage over me of having my name on his forms.
Gordon said he had seem me around from time to time since he had come back
to the city and taken up the job a few years earlier and that he lived only
a short distance from me. He also said that the woods where the lads were
attacked were notorious as a gay meeting place and that there had also been
a number of other attacks there. Before he could continue, a police
constable walked in. He was well built, about six feet tall and, I guessed,
not much older than Stewart and his friends.
He introduced himself and Gordon left. The constable spent a few minutes
looking over the forms Gordon had filled in and then asked Stewart to go
over the details again, starting from when the three of them left the pub.
Keith and Eric occasionally confirmed details of the story; I confirmed that
I had seen Stewart in the pub with his friends whilst I had been there with
my son and his wife. Stewart said that when they left the pub, they drove
to the lay-by near the woods planning to get stripped off and have some fun
together before going home. The policeman quietly reminded them that they
would have been breaking the law on two counts, that this was a public place
and there were more than two of them, if they had committed any sexual act.
English law on homosexual behaviour is so quaint! He also asked if they had
been there before; all said they had not, but they admitted that they knew
it was a gay meeting place. It had been while they were still undressing
each other that the attackers had struck - hence Stewart's lack of shirt
when he came to me, Eric had lost a shoe, Keith his jacket.
Stewart had brought along his cut and bloodstained jeans as evidence. He
showed no hesitation in dropping the trousers he was now wearing (with
underwear!) to show the scar on his buttocks. The police officer noted the
scar on his form and asked to keep the jeans as evidence; Stewart agreed.
Peter, the police officer, excused himself and left the room. He returned
some five or ten minutes later with a colleague whom he introduced as
Matthew. They wanted to know if I had seen anyone leave the pub shortly
after the three lads, or if another vehicle had left the car park. I hadn't
seen anyone leave, I thought that only two cars had left but wasn't at all
sure as it was just then that Bill and Charlotte had broken their exciting
news to me. The policemen asked a few more general questions and seemed
particularly interested in the attackers' car, before leaving the room
again. A few minutes later they returned, thoughtfully bringing with them
some coffee, though evidently the station was out of sugar!
This process had all taken well over an hour and as I was beginning to
wonder why the police were showing so much interest when Peter said that
they were investigating a number of such incidents in the wood and that they
had a 'sting' operation planned for the following Friday. Were Stewart,
Eric and Keith sure that they could identify their assailants? More
importantly, would they be prepared to attend an identification parade the
following Saturday morning, if necessary? The three looked at each other
for a few moments and then all answered 'yes' to both questions.
Matthew asked if any of us had any questions; no-one had. All four of us
were then asked to write formal statements outlining what we had told the
police; we were cautioned about their accuracy. When completed, the
statements were read to us by Matthew and we signed them. Peter suggested
that it might be a good idea to keep away from that the Varsity Arms for the
next few days; it seemed likely that the attackers watched for groups of men
leaving the pub and then followed them. And certainly don't go anywhere
near the woods - not that that was even remotely likely! Finally, we were
asked not to mention the planned sting operation to anyone and told in no
uncertain terms what would happen if we did, then told we were free to go.
Peter accompanied us out of the station. As we got to the front door, he
turned to the three lads and gave them each his card. He said in a totally
matter-of-fact way that he too was gay and that he was the gay liaison
officer for the city. If they had any worries about the case they should
not hesitate to contact him directly, though strictly on a professional
basis.
*****
By now it was almost midday; we were all quite drained from the stress of
the events of the last twelve hours or so, particularly the session with the
police. A moment's discussion in the police station car park showed that we
were all convinced that it had been the right thing to do to report the
incident to the police and that they had handled it very sensitively. It
seemed that none of the lads had managed any breakfast, so I offered to
stump up for a quick bar meal at another pub just across the road from the
police station.
The conversation over lunch was wide ranging, Coventry City football team
was not doing so well, certain to be relegated this year after struggling to
stay in the Premier Division for so long (they were!), there was the
prospect of some redundancies at the computer company the lads worked for,
George's wife was coming back the following weekend, but little or no
mention of the incident last night. Stewart asked Keith if Eric had stayed
the night with him; he had, but there was no further comment. No-one asked
where Stewart had been.
Lunch over, I paid the bill and we left the pub. Eric said he would drop
Keith off at home, I said I would take Stewart and we went our separate
ways.
I drove into my driveway and parked. Stewart followed me to the front door
and came in without a word. As soon as I closed the door, he embraced me
tightly and burst into tears of relief; he had been so calm and unemotional
at the police station and over lunch, he now just had to let go. After
several minutes he calmed down and I was able to go for the pee I so badly
needed.
When I came out from the bathroom, Stewart was stripped to his boxer briefs
in the hallway. Without a word, he took me by the hand and led me to the
bedroom. We fell onto the bed together, him on top, astride my hips. In
seconds, he was tearing at my shirt buttons, then my belt, the waist button
of my trousers and then the zip. By this time I was getting a good view of
the very noticeable bulge in the front of his underwear. I pushed off my
trousers, briefs, socks and shoes in one movement, then sat up while he took
off my shirt; he did a press-up on the bed as I pushed his briefs to his
ankles.
Stewart collapsed on top of me, our hard dicks grinding together between our
stomachs. He was writhing all over me, now totally relaxed after his
ordeal. We continued rolling over each other, groping and feeling each
other's naked bodies for quite some time. When I felt a finger probing my
ass-hole, when I felt lips around my rock-hard dick, when I felt him
nibbling my hardened nipples, I reciprocated. Suddenly, he rolled into the
sixty-nine position and we swallowed each other's dicks to the hilt. I was
determined not to be first to shoot my load, but I could already feel the
pre-cum oozing from my prick, my balls were tightening ominously, when
suddenly Stewart's body arched and went rigid. It was all I could do to
swallow his load and as I did so, another load shot straight into his throat
when I could control myself no longer.
We stayed in that position for some seconds, savouring the last drops as our
cocks began to soften, then Stewart rolled over, turned around and lay
beside me with his arms around my shoulders. We lay there, totally relaxed,
we may even have drifted off to sleep for a few moments. After some minutes
we began to talk. Stewart spilled out even more of his past, the problems
he had had at boarding school with his sexuality, the reluctant acceptance
of his situation by his father and the prejudice of his mother. As Stewart
told me more and more about his feelings, his desires and his frustrations,
I was beginning to formulate a plan.
Over the last few hours I was feeling more like a professional counsellor
than a telecommunications engineer - but maybe I was enjoying it. The perks
of the job were certainly more interesting!
To be continued; if you liked my story so far, let me know, tell me what it
is doing for you; if you didn't like it, tell me that as well, polite
criticism is equally welcome - mailto:nakednick2@btinternet.com